Journey
by kanna-chan94
Summary: Thalia Masters is a pre-teen cyborg. When she meets Sherlock and John, craziness ensues. NO SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So...this is the other story I will be working on in addition to my other one, "The Ring That Binds Thee." Please review that one and this one! Thanks!**

Do you ever hear people wonder things along the lines of "why me," or "how?" People can be really ignorant at times. They see, but they just don't observe. They hear what they wish, yet they are so blind, so deaf to all the little things around them. They're too calm and quiet to even bother to expect the unexpected, to see the unseen. They should consider their lives blessings, and live each day as though it was their last. I know I do, at any rate. Especially after that "accident" happened.

My name is Thalia Masters. I am twelve years old, and the world's only Consulting Private Investigator. I am fluent in French and Russian, and I play the flute and violin on the level of that of a professional. I was in an all girls boarding school in central London when IT happened. The day I became a cyborg. The day my entire life changed.

It was Saturday, December 7th 5:27 p.m. My best friends, Mary, Katherine, and Cassandra, and I had gone Christmas shopping in advance. We were about to cross the street to where a small coffee shop was located, and we were talking about this really cute guy at our school, Joseph. Joseph was a year ahead of us, and we all wanted him to ask us to the Christmas dance that was in two weeks. When the light changed telling us to walk, we ran across the street. All the cars had stopped, except for one. A big black limo kept speeding right along. My friends had made it across the street in time.

However, I did not. The car hit me, sending me back and everything that happened after that suddenly sped up. It's as though time was on fast-forward or steroids or something. Next thing I knew, I was suddenly lying on the cold, hard, icy street in a pool of blood. The car just kept on going to wherever it was going.

Everybody around me just screamed and screamed and screamed. Nobody did anything. They all just started taking pictures or something. My vision was beginning to go, but the one thing I saw was the face of my nemesis. I saw his face through the back of the window. He had turned around in his seat, glaring at me with malice in his eyes, and a big smile on his face. He was somewhat tall, and wore a black suit with a red tie. His hair was slicked back. I wasn't surprised at who it was. But, we'll talk about that later. You're probably wondering about how it was I survived.

I wasn't sure what had happened. I woke up in the hospital about three days later (according to what the doctors said), and discovered I could slightly move my arms and legs. I felt really weak, and something felt strange about my body. A doctor walked in.

"What the...where am I? Who are you?" I asked him.

"You're in the Princess Grace Hospital." the doctor-guy said. He seemed nice enough. He walked over to the wall and grabbed a syringe, and put a needle in it.

"Strange...I remember going shopping with my friends when a big, black limousine came at me. Then, I couldn't move."

"We used magic to make you all better!" I knew better than that. The doctors did some kind of weird surgery, but considering this was some kind of a kid's hospital, I just rolled with it. The doctor then came back over to me.

"Are you going to give me a shot?"

"You don't like shots?"

"Not really."

"It's only going to hurt for a second, then you'll get to get out of this dreary hospital room. How does that sound?"

"Good. But...what really happened to me? I'm not a kid. In fact, I'm in year eleven at an all girls boarding school. (a/n: In terms of US education, this would be 6th or 7th grade. In London, this would be the second half of your junior year of high school. I don't know, considering I live in America, so if someone from England would like to correct me on this, please do). I skipped a bunch of grades, I'm fluent in French and Russian, and I play flute and violin on the level of that of an expert. I think I'm smart enough to know the truth."

The doctor sighed, and said, "Fine. I'll tell you, but after we do your shot." And with that, he stuck the needle in my arm and gave me the shot. It only hurt for a second, but I still didn't like it. The doctor sighed again, before saying, "You want to know what really happened? Fine. Here it is: You were nearly dead. Our doctors tried everything they knew and could think of, but nothing worked. A doctor from Italy came, and suggested we give you cybernetic implants. He helped guide us through the process, and we gave you the implants. These implants consist of synthesized muscles and carbon fiber frames, which give you heightened strength and reflexes, as well as high resilience to damage and pain. You won't really be able to live as a human much anymore. I mean, you can still eat and drink and breathe and everything, but..." he trailed off, and I got the message. With my enhanced strength and speed, I wouldn't really be able to make many friends. I'd have to leave the friends I had, as well as my old life, behind. I had to forget who I used to be.

"When will I be able to leave the hospital?" I asked. I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

"With any luck, in a couple of hours. The other doctors want to go over the test results with the implants."

"What about my stuff? My flute and my violin and my bags?"

"The police came into your house and brought it all here. It's in that closet over towards the right." the doctor said, gesturing towards the closet. I felt a huge sense of relief. I would be out of here in a few hours. I just had to hang in there until then. He started to walk towards the door, before saying, "If you need anything, just use the buzzer on the side of the bed. You can get up and walk to the closet and around the hospital, but we're not going to let you leave just yet, I'm afraid."

"That's okay. I just really want to go."

The doctor walked out of the door. I decided to try out my new body. I got up, got out of the bed, and raided the closet my stuff was in for something nice to wear. In the end, I pulled out a small spaghetti-strap blue dress, a black jacket, and black shoes. I grabbed my violin case, and walked out of the room.

I looked around for a door to an outside area. For a hospital, it was definitely pretty big. I continued to walk and walk for what felt like about half an hour, before I saw a nurse coming around the corner. I asked her for directions to go outside, and she gave them to me, and I ran there, using my new and improved speed. I have to admit, being this way had its advantages; I could get anywhere I needed to fast.

The outside are was towards the back of the hospital. Behind there was a beautiful park-like area. The trees were covered with snow, and so was the ground. The bench that I ran to was, also, but that didn't matter. I decided to try out my strength and pick it up to brush the snow off. All the snow came tumbling down. I put my violin case on the bench, picked up my violin and bow, and began to play "Air on the G String." It was one of my favorite pieces to play. Something about it just seemed so calming; I couldn't quite place it. As I played, it seemed as though time had slowed down to a relaxing pace, and everything began to relax.

As I was playing, I heard what sounded like a man speaking rapid-fire Italian. I put my violin back in the case, closed it, and looked over at the man, who had just got off the phone. He began to walk towards me. "Can I help you with something?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, with a thick Italian accent, "I believe you can. Are you Thalia Masters?"

"What's it to you?"

"I am the doctor who helped do the surgery on you. You're quite the musician by the way; I heard you playing your violin. That's not why I'm here, though. This," he said, handing me a guitar case, "is for you."

I took the case from him, opened it up, and stared at what was inside. Inside the guitar case was not a guitar, but a series of weapons. Namely, three guns and three stun grenades. One of the guns was a FN P90, which was a selective fire personal defense weapon. The others were a CZ 75 (semi-automatic pistol), a M1897 Trench Shotgun (pump-action shotgun) with a bayonet attachment, and a H&K MP7 PDW (submachine gun). There was a little compartment inside the case that had what I assumed were spare bullet clips and a strap for the case. "Thank you," I said, "but why are you giving this to me?"

"Let's just say that I have a feeling you're going to be needing that in the near future." the man said, before walking away.

I thought that was very strange, but I just went with the flow, closed the case, and took my violin back out of its case. I tried to remember where I was with "Air on the G String," when I heard what sounded like someone screaming. I whipped my head around, and saw that some guy wearing all black had suddenly pushed this poor old woman to the ground, and took off with her purse.

I jammed my violin back into its case, grabbed it, and ran over to the old woman. "Are you all right? What happened?"

She looked up at me like I was crazy, but said, "That man over there just pushed me down and took my purse! Someone get the police!"

"No! Don't get the police. I got this. Here," I said, handing my violin case to her, "I need you to hold this until I get back, okay?"

She looked at me like I was crazy again, and I ran with my weapons case in tow to catch the guy. He was heading off the hospital grounds. The doctors were probably going to kill me, but I had to help that woman. I ran across the street with my speed, and saw a sewer cap towards the right side of the block. I could use that to set a trap and catch the guy before he made it any further! I lifted it up, and moved it enough so that the guy would trip over it. Chances were, he wouldn't look at the ground, only in front or behind him. I opened my weapons case, and got my pump-action shotgun out. Luckily enough, it was loaded and ready to go.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the guy came running towards my trap. He was running so fast and not even looking behind him that he tripped over the sewer cap. It looked like he was about to get up, so I shot him in his legs. He was still alive, which was what I wanted. I put my gun back in my case, picked it up, and then calmly walked over to him. I took the purse out of his hand, and ran back to the hospital. I looked for the old lady, and sure enough, she was right where I left her. "Here," I said, "take it. It's yours."

"Wh-Who are you?" she said, gasping for breath. It looked like she was in shock or something. She took the purse with shaking hands.

"Thalia Masters. The world's only Consulting Private Investigator, at your service. Can I please have my violin back?"

She handed me the case with shaking hands, and the doctor came out. "There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" he said, with a bit of frustration in his tone. Without even bothering to wait for an explanation, he said, "We finished the tests much earlier than we thought we would. You're all set and free to go. Have a nice day!" The doctor walked away, and I was left with that poor old woman.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson. Thank you so much for returning my purse. Did you say you were a Consulting Private Investigator? I think you would like the person who I am a householder for. Why don't you come over, and we can have some cocoa, and you can meet him."

Considering I had nowhere else to be, or a place to stay, I said, "Um...sure. Let me just grab my bags from my room, okay?"

**15 Minutes Later**

"Okay, I'm ready to go!" I said. I was so glad to be out of the hospital. I wore my weapons case on my back, and I carried my other bags with my hands. Mrs. Hudson carried my flute and violin cases.

We had a nice chat on the way there, and before I knew it, we were at her house. Well, according to her, it wasn't really a house. It was more of a...flat. We walked in, and I heard what sounded like two people arguing. "Merde. Environ deux secondes, et j'entends déjà les gens en faisant valoir. Cela ne peut pas être bon." I muttered, cursing in French. I like to do that when I'm mad. Well, cursing in French or Russian, whatever I felt like at the time.

"Did you say something, love?" Mrs. Hudson asked, just as she was about to open the door.

"Nope. Just can't wait to meet this person." I lied. I was actually a bit nervous. She opened the door, and the last words I heard before the people stared at the door were, "How can you abuse it like that?"

"You two having another argument again?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"You haven't even introduced yourselves yet, and you're already acting like a married couple. Alors ennuyeux." I said.

"Qu'avez-vous dit?" one of the men asked. He was wearing a dark blue robe. I was shocked the he spoke French.

" Parlez vous français?" I asked.

"Oui, mais ce n'est pas le point. What did you just say?"

"I said," reverting back to English, "that the two of you are acting like a married couple. It's actually kind of funny, and I haven't even met you yet. I'm Thalia Masters. Consulting Private Investigator, at your service."

"Sherlock Holmes," the man in the robe said. "This is my colleague, Dr. John Watson," he said, gesturing to the man in the sweater, who was sitting across from Sherlock.

I took one quick look at Sherlock, and said, "Violin or viola?"

He seemed surprised. "What?"

"I asked, do you play the violin or viola?"

"Violin, but how do you_"

"Know? It's obvious. The way you're tapping your fingers on the arm of the sofa, and there are several small calluses on your right hand. Then there's the shape of your chin, and how one of your shoulders is slightly higher than the other. Plus, that music over there on that music stand was obviously written for either a violin or a viola. I should know; I play the violin myself. And the flute."

Sherlock stared for a minute, and then smiled. "Impressive."

"Thank you."

John just stared at us like we were crazy. "It's like she's a miniature version of you!" he exclaimed.

I laughed. I was already beginning to get along great with these people. "Thalia," Mrs. Hudson broke in, "do you have a place to stay?"

"No. I mean, I'd go home, but no one's there, and my dad...well, he's not exactly the nicest person. He's a criminal." I said. I couldn't afford to give too much info on my father. I didn't know what Sherlock would think, and I had the feeling that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here for as long as you like," Mrs. Hudson said, smiling. "Let's see...I don't have a third bed, but you can sleep on the sofa, if you don't mind."

"That's perfect! Thank you so much!" I exclaimed.

**a/n: hope you like it! credit goes to wikipedia for the info on the different guns I used, and Google translator for the French used. Here is what it all means:**

**Merde. Environ deux secondes, et j'entends déjà les gens en faisant valoir. Cela ne peut pas être bon: ****Shit. About two seconds and I hear people arguing. This can not be good.**

**Alors ennuyeux: how annoying.**

**Qu'avez-vous dit: what did you say?**

**Parlez vous français: you speak French:**

**Oui, mais ce n'est pas le point: Yes, but that's not the point.**

**R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know, I know, it's been over a year. Don't rub it in! I am back! Yay! Translations for anything and everything in a foreign language will be at the bottom of the chapter.**

**kanna-chan does NOT own Sherlock. If she did, the episodes would air a lot sooner in the US (thank you to my Time Lady friends for giving me links on where to watch the new episodes).  
**

* * *

It had been a few days, and Sherlock and John hadn't questioned really anything about me. I could tell they were suspicious, though. Mrs. Hudson was, too. I didn't blame any of them. I knew that they could see I was hiding something. I heard Sherlock and John talking about me once or twice, but they denied everything. I sighed, as I brushed my hair and got ready to practice my flute.

It was a late afternoon on Tuesday, and I had just finished my flute practice for the day. Rather, my flute practice was interrupted, when I heard a loud noise that sounded like a _bang! bang! bang!_ I covered my ears, and did the best that I could to follow it, to find Sherlock, lying on the couch, with a gun in his hand, shooting a smiley face at the wall. "Merde," I shouted. "Que faites-vous?"

"I'm bored," Sherlock sighed, temporarily stopping. He reached for another gun on the table and asked, "Care to join me?"

"You're insane."

"It's kind of fun after a while."

"Do you have headphones or something?"

"No."

"Eh, whatever." I took the gun in my hands. It was a rather small handgun. I took aim just above the head of the smiley face and fired. He was right. It did get fun after a while.

Sherlock and I took turns firing at the head, until John ran up the stairs, shouting, "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"Bored," Sherlock and I said together.

"What?"

"Bored," Sherlock shouted, and with that, he got up from the couch and shot at the wall again. John quickly took the gun from Sherlock and emptied it of bullets. He didn't even notice that I had a gun.

"So you're taking it out on the wall?" John put the gun down, and then noticed my gun. I sighed, before handing it over, and watched him and Sherlock exchange a weird look, before John sat down.

Sherlock replied, "The wall had it coming." He flopped onto the couch, and picked up a magazine.

"Did you read it," John asked.

"Read what," I asked.

"'A Study in Pink,'" Sherlock replied, sighing. "The newest entry on John's blog."

"Blog?"

"We solve crimes, and John blogs about it."

"Did you like it," John repeated.

"Um...no. But that's not important," Sherlock replied.

John turned to Sherlock before exclaiming, "You're telling me you don't like it? I thought you'd be flattered!"

"Flattered," Sherlock exclaimed bitterly. "Did you, now? Then I suppose you thought I'd be flattered by your post that read, 'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how _spectacularly ignorant_ he is about some things.'" I laughed, but the moment I received sharp glares from John and Sherlock, I quieted down.

"Now, look, I didn't mean it like-"

"Oh, so you meant it in a nice way," Sherlock said sarcastically. "Look, you should know perfectly well that none of this gossip rubbish matters to me-"

"Or that the Earth goes around the sun," John muttered.

"Not again! How many times do I have to tell you that it's not important?"

"Not important? It's _primary school stuff_; how can you not know that?" John turned to me and asked, "Do you believe anything that he just said?"

"About the Earth going around the sun," I asked. "Unfortunately, I do believe him. A person like him...small, trivial stuff doesn't really matter to him."

"Look, if I ever knew it, I deleted it," Sherlock sighed. "This," he pointed to his head, "is my hard drive. It only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. _Really_ useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters."

"But it's the solar system," I exclaimed. "Everyone knows that stuff!"

"Oh, Thalia, not you, too," Sherlock sighed. "So we go around the sun! If we went around the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference! All that matters to me is the work! Without that, my brain rots."

John sighed, as he got up. He grabbed a coat, and said, "I'm going out. I need some air." He closed the door behind him.

"That could have gone better," I said, as I went to my room.

"Where are you going," Sherlock asked.

"You interrupted my practice," I sighed, "I was halfway through playing 'Vocalise' when you interrupted me with that gun. Now if you don't mind, I'm off to go back and practice."

"'Vocalise?' Isn't that a flute piece?"

"Yes, I was practicing my flute. Now if you don't mind, I'd really like to get back to it."

"You must look out the window, Thalia. It's so quiet...calm...peaceful...isn't it just hateful?"

"Um...sure." I figured I had to humor the guy somehow.

Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door before walking in, and noticed us looking out the window. "Couldn't help but overhear you two," she commented. "I'm sure something will turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder. That should cheer you up."

My eyes widened at the mention of the word 'murder.' My dad, being the criminal he was, didn't enjoy getting his hands dirty, so there was no doubt that he managed to get one of his henchpeople to do the dirty work for him. Yes, I know, henchpeople isn't a word. It's my word. There. "I just hope that it doesn't come too soon," Sherlock muttered, voicing what I was thinking.

"Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall," Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. Sherlock and I turned around, looked at the wall, and smiled, before Mrs. Hudson walked out, saying, "I'm putting this on your rent, young man."

Sherlock watched her walk out, and I went back to my room, and tried to find my spot in my sheet music. However, just as I was about to start playing, a loud explosion shattered just about every window, including the ones in my room. I quickly jumped to the floor, in a curled up position. The noise was so loud, and the explosion was so big, I wasn't sure if it was over yet. I heard this pounding in my head, and I quickly let the darkness take me.

* * *

"Thalia," Sherlock called. "Thalia, where are you?" Sherlock called for me, somehow managing to find his way through the rubble.

"Down here," I said, squirming out. My flute was still intact, and everything else seemed to be in one piece, including the guitar case that was filled with my weapons. Everything was okay...except for the furniture. "That hurt."

"You can complain about that later, put some better looking clothes on. We have a visitor, unfortunately."

"A visitor? Who?"

"You'll see."

"Let me put on a dress, and I'll be right out." Sherlock sighed, as he nodded, and walked out of my room, closing the door behind him. I sighed, as I wondered about the events of last night. I didn't really trust visitors that much, and the way that Sherlock talked about this particular visitor didn't reassure me. I looked through the guitar case and quickly picked out a small semi-automatic pistol. I found a small holster that wrapped around my leg, and I put that on, sticking the weapon inside it. I slipped on a light blue dress that covered it. I sighed, as I tried to make myself look at least somewhat presentable.

I sighed, as I walked out of the room and into the sitting room, to see Sherlock sitting across from a man who looked to be a little bit older than him. He wore a very expensive suit. The suit had to be at least six hundred pounds. He had a cane, and he said to Sherlock, not even noticing me, "Never mind your usual business. Something like this is of national importance."

"Isn't everything," I asked the man, as I sat down in a chair across from Sherlock. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

Sherlock had his violin in his hands. He plucked a string, trying to tune it, before he said, "Stay out of this." He then turned to the man. "How's the diet?"

"Fine. Who's she," the man asked.

"Not important."

"Come on, he can't be that bad, Sherlock," I sighed.

"Mummy wouldn't want you to-" the man got cut off, as I asked, "Mummy?"

"Thalia, this is my brother, Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes, Thalia Masters," Sherlock introduced. "There, now you two-"

"John," Mycroft pointed out, and I turned around in my chair to see that John just walked through the door.

"I just saw you on the telly," John explained. "You okay?"

"Wha-me? Oh, yes, I'm fine," Sherlock said.

I nodded, indicating I was okay, too. "They think it was a gas leak," I commented. John sat down in a chair across from Mycroft, and I asked John, "How was the sofa?"

Mycroft gave me a weird look, before John answered, "How did you...never mind."

"Quite the brains you've got for a ten year old," Mycroft commented.

"I'm twelve. But thanks," I said.

"Tell me something."

"I know you're hear to tell us something important. And...you've got something in your back pocket. The way you're standing. Oh, and that you have a dental appointment coming up."

"And how, pray tell, do you know this?"

"People are easy to read. Like books. Particularly you, Mycroft. There's also your body language. You've been bending over a lot and have your hand stuffed into your back pocket. That made me able to tell that you have something in your back pocket. As for the dental appointment, you've been holding your jaw a lot for the past few minutes."

"Impressive."

"Thank you."

"Enough small talk," Sherlock sighed.

"My brother is right," Mycroft said, as he stood up, with his cane, and held a bunch of papers in his hand and handed them to John. "Andrew West. Known as Westie to his friends. Civil servant. Found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"And you know this...how," I asked.

"I occupy a minor position on the British government."

"Still, that case...it doesn't sound pretty."

"Not pretty indeed."

"However...why does it sound like there should be a 'but' at the end of that sentence?"

"'But?'"

"Do I have to spell it out? Something is telling me you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident."

Mycroft sighed. "The MOD is working on a missile defense system. The Bruce-Partington Program, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

"Not very smart of them. What's so important about that, though?"

"It gets worse. It's not the only copy. It's secret. Top secret. And missing. Our theory is that West must have taken the missile plans, and we can't risk them falling into the wrong hands at any cost." Mycroft turned to his brother, who had taken to cleaning his bow. "You have to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

Sherlock put the violin on his shoulder and under his chin, before saying, "I'd like to see you try."

"Think it over," Mycroft ordered, as he walked over to John and shook his hand. "Goodbye, John. See you very soon." He then walked over to me and asked, "Pleasure, Miss Masters. May I have a word outside before I take my leave?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, before standing up, with my flute in my hands. I followed him out into the hall and down the stairs to the front door. I closed it behind me, as I heard the sound of Sherlock "playing" his instrument. "I know what you are," Mycroft commented. "Whether Sherlock hasn't noticed or not...well, that's his problem."

"You know _what_ I am," I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm a human being. At least, last time I checked. What, have I turned into some kind of weird alien or something?"

"Vous pouvez jouer tous les muets que vous voulez. Nous savons tous deux que vous mentez."

My eyes widened. "Vous parlez français?"

"Oui, mais ce n'est pas le point. Vous êtes un menteur."

"Comment connaissez-vous?"

"S'il vous plaît. Qui pensez-vous autorisé les médecins à vous transformer en ce que vous êtes?"

"C'était vous?"

"Ne vous souvient-ce que j'ai dit plus tôt? J'occupe une position mineure au sein du gouvernement britannique."

"Laissez-moi deviner. Vous avez envoyé ce mec avec le cas de guitare, aussi?"

"Oui. Je sais aussi que vous cachez quelque chose."

"I've got nothing to hide, and if I did have something to hide, I certainly wouldn't tell you. It's none of your business," I countered in English.

"Which technically makes it my business. You see, I'm...concerned, shall we say, about my little brother."

"What do you expect me to do about it? I'm twelve."

"Listen to me very closely, my dear. I hold my brother, Sherlock, in...shall we say, very high concern. So know that if you are hiding something, I will find it. I'm like a terrier. Once I see something I want, I don't stop until I have it. And rest assured, with someone like you, someone...I created, shall we say, I will not stop."

"You want information, then?"

"Obviously."

"You do realize, of course, that, if I was hiding something, I wouldn't tell you?"

Mycroft sighed. He switched to Russian, and said, "Вы что-то скрывает. Я выясню, что это такое, я могу обещать вам, что."

"Вы, кажется, определен. Знайте это, однако. Я не скажу вам ничего."

"Good to know," Mycroft said, switching to English. "I will find out, though. And when I do, there will be no stopping me from telling my colleagues. Or my brother, for that matter. Good day to you, Miss Masters."

"And to you." And with that, Mycroft walked out the door.

I sighed, as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I walked back upstairs to the flat, but stopped short when I heard voices. Sherlock's, to be exact. "She's hiding something," he mused, not knowing I was there.

"What makes you say that," John asked. I mentally laughed. Oh, John. So naive. Seeing and not observing, as per usual.

"Mrs. Hudson doesn't just 'take in' people, for one thing. Thalia had to have done something. What's more, however, is we have no idea who she is. We know her dad is a criminal, we don't know anything about her mum, and we don't even know who her parents are. Let alone the fact that she has a gun. Rather, gun_s_. She's not even in school. Something's fishy. And I don't believe in coincidences."

"You think she's spying on us? Sherlock, your brother may be many things, but-"

"No, it's not my brother. Not Lestrade either. I don't know who. Remember when she said that her father was a criminal?"

"Sherlock, there are tons of criminals out there. Women get raped nearly every day, just like men and women...you know. So she's the daughter of a criminal. Your brother pretty much is the British government, and the guy who is happily enjoying watching you 'dance' is nowhere to be found. She could be anyone's kid."

"Dear G-d, what's it like in your little brain? It must be oh, so boring."

"Indeed," I said, as I walked through the door. "I'm going to get back to my practice, which I had hoped to do earlier. Unless, of course, you two wish to talk to me."

Sherlock and John exchanged a look, before John replied, "You can go. We were just-"

"Conversing. About me. I heard everything you were saying. Look, I can't tell you anything. I barely know you. What I can tell you, however, is that you're sticking your noses where they don't belong. Now, if you don't mind, I have a practice to get back to."

I began to walk off, furious that they were starting to suspect something. I'd heard that Sherlock was smart, but this smart? Something was fishy. I didn't believe in coincidences either. Not only that, but who was it who enjoyed watching Sherlock 'dance?' I needed answers. I quickly changed direction, grabbed a jacket and scarf, packed my flute, and was about to walk out, when Sherlock asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out. I need some air," was my response, as I began to walk out the door, until I heard a cell phone.

Sherlock quickly answered it. "Sherlock Holmes," he said, and he listened for a few moments, before hanging up and saying, "Lestrade. I've been summoned. Are you coming?" He looked at John.

"If you want me to," John answered.

"Of course! I'd be lost without my blogger."

"I'm going, too," I declared.

"No, you're not," Sherlock said.

"Yes, I am. You can't stop me."

"You know, there's always been a reason I've hated children. They never know when to give up. Listen, Thalia, you're not coming, and that's final." And before I could get a word in edgewise, the two of them walked out the door.

"Merde."

* * *

**A/N: OK! Tons and tons of wondrous, glorious translations in this chappy! I know, this was kind of a filler, and the story might be rushed a bit later on to connect with the episodes, but we're going to find out some interesting things in the next chapter or two. Some VERY interesting things...-evil laugh- See you all in the next chappy! R&R!**

**Translations from French to English:**

**"Merde! Que faites-vous?" - "Shit! What are you doing?"**

**"Vous pouvez jouer tous les muets que vous voulez. Nous savons tous deux que vous mentez." - "You can play dumb all you want. We both know you're lying."**

**"Vous parlez français?" - "You speak French?"**

**"Oui, mais ce n'est pas le point. Vous êtes un menteur." - "Yes, but that is not the point. You are a liar."**

**"Comment connaissez-vous?" - "How do you know?"**

**"S'il vous plaît. Qui pensez-vous autorisé les médecins à vous transformer en ce que vous êtes?" - "Please. Who do you think authorized the doctors to turn you into what you are?"**

**"C'était vous?" - "That was you?"**

**"Ne vous souvient-ce que j'ai dit plus tôt? J'occupe une position mineure au sein du gouvernement britannique." - "Do you remember what I said earlier? I occupy a minor position on the British government."**

**"Laissez-moi deviner. Vous avez envoyé ce mec avec le cas de guitare, aussi?" - "Let me guess. You sent that guy with the guitar case, too?"**

**"Oui. Je sais aussi que vous cachez quelque chose." - "Yes. I also know you're hiding something."**

****

**Translations from Russian to English:**

**"Вы что-то скрывает. Я выясню, что это такое, я могу обещать вам, что." - "You are hiding something. I'll find out what it is, I can promise you that."**

**"Вы, кажется, определен. Знайте это, однако. Я не скажу вам ничего." - "You seem to be determined. Know this, however. I will not tell you anything."**


End file.
